Straits — an excerpt
Contents
- CHAPTER ONE — January 23, 1991 — Satellite News Network, Atlanta
- CHAPTER TWO — March 8, 1991 — Pentagon 4th Floor, C-Wing
- CHAPTER THREE — April 11, 1991 — Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, Rosslyn, VA
- CHAPTER FOUR — June 19, 1991 — Clark Air Base, Philippines
- CHAPTER FIVE — September 4, 1991 — Silicon Valley
- CHAPTER SIX — March 9, 1992 — Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, Rosslyn, VA
- CHAPTER SEVEN — September 15, 1992 — Satellite News Network, Atlanta
- CHAPTER EIGHT — December 2, 1992 — 7th Floor, Department of State Building, Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER NINE — March 5, 1993 — Penthouse, Miami Beach
- CHAPTER TEN — June 17, 1993 — National War College, Fort Lesley J. McNair, Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER ELEVEN — August 25, 1993 — Undisclosed Facility, outskirts of Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER TWELVE — February 1, 1994 — St. Louis Aircraft Manufacturing Facility
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN — April 15, 1994 — Pentagon Cafeteria
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN — April 15, 1994 — Pentagon 3rd Floor, D-Ring
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN — May 1, 1994 — Pentagon Basement, Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN — May 12, 1994 — Satellite News Network, Atlanta
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — June 6, 1994 — Joint Staff National Disclosure Office, Pentagon
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — September 1, 1994 — The Catacomb Bar, Georgetown, Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER NINETEEN — February 15, 1995 — Satellite News Network, Atlanta
- CHAPTER TWENTY — March 11, 1995 — Undisclosed location, Japan
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — March 20, 1995 — Kasumigaseki Station, Tokyo
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO — March 23, 1995 — Dumai, Indonesia
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — April 2, 1996 — St. Louis Aircraft Manufacturing Facility
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — April 5, 1996 — Aboard the Fast Frigate USS Reuben James in the Persian Gulf
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — April 15, 1996 — Undisclosed Facility, outskirts of Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — May 29, 1996 — Tokyo
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN — July 4, 1996 — Undisclosed Facility, outskirts of Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT — July 4, 1996 — Aboard the Fast Frigate USS Reuben James in the Persian Gulf
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE — July 4, 1996 — Undisclosed Facility, outskirts of Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER THIRTY — July 4, 1996 — Aboard the Fast Frigate USS Reuben James in the Persian Gulf
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE — July 7, 1996 — The White House
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO — October 5, 1996 — COMLOGWESPAC Headquarters, Singapore
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE — November 11, 1996 — COMLOGWESPAC Headquarters, Singapore
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR — November 14, 1996 — Research Vessel Hughes Explorer, Strait of Malacca
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE — November 16, 1996 — Sembawang Officers' Club, Singapore
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX — March 5, 1997 — Singapore Navy Patrol Vessel Justice, Strait of Malacca
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — April 13, 1997 — U.S. Embassy Singapore
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — April 14, 1997 — Satellite News Network, Atlanta
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE — May 14, 1997 — Hard Rock Cafe, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
- CHAPTER FORTY — June 1, 1997 — SNN Bureau, Hilton Hotel, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE — June 12, 1997 — Strait of Malacca
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO — June 15, 1997 — The White House
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE — June 18, 1997 — Ministry of Information and the Arts, Singapore
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR — June 23, 1997 — Dulles Airport Terminal
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE — June 23, 1997 — Dulles Airport Bar
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX — June 23, 1997 — Dulles Airport Boarding
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN — June 24, 1997 — Airborne Westbound from LA
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT — June 24, 1997 — Airborne over the middle of the Pacific
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE — June 24, 1997 — Airborne over the Western Pacific
- CHAPTER FIFTY — June 24, 1997 — Miles High
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE — June 25, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Headquarters, Singapore
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO — June 25, 1997 — Admiral's Quarters, Sembawang Naval Base, Singapore
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE — June 26, 1997 — Pan Pacific Hotel, Singapore
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR — June 26, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Headquarters, Singapore
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE — June 27, 1997 — Ambassador's Residence, Singapore
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX — June 29, 1997 — U.S. Embassy, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN — June 30, 1997 — Melaka and Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT — July 1, 1997 — Malaysian Military Headquarters, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE — July 1, 1997 — Air Attaché's Residence, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
- CHAPTER SIXTY — July 1, 1997 — Strategic Studies Institute, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE — July 3, 1997 — Studebakers Night Club, Singapore
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO — July 4, 1997 — Kampung Sungai Buntu, Malaysia
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE — July 5, 1997 — Pan Pacific Hotel, Singapore
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR — July 5, 1997 — Raffles Hotel, Singapore
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE — July 6, 1997 — Airborne over the Strait of Malacca southwest of Singapore
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX — July 8, 1997 — Tanjung Tuan Beach, 7 miles southeast of Port Dickson, Malaysia
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN — July 10, 1997 — King's Tower Condominiums, Singapore
- CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT — July 13, 1997 — Pan Pacific Hotel, Singapore
- CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE — July 14, 1997 — Airborne over the Strait of Malacca northwest of Singapore
- CHAPTER SEVENTY — July 14, 1997 — Undisclosed Facility, outskirts of Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE — July 14, 1997 — Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force Headquarters, Tokyo
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO — July 15, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Headquarters, Singapore
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE — July 16, 1997 — Undisclosed Facility near Dulles
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR — July 18, 1997 — U.S. Embassy, Singapore
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE — July 20, 1997 — Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX — July 21, 1997 — Undisclosed Facility near Dulles
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN — July 22, 1997 — SNN Bureau, Singapore
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT — July 23, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Headquarters, Singapore
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE — July 26, 1997 — Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.
- CHAPTER EIGHTY — July 27, 1997 — Clarke Quay, Singapore
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE — July 27, 1997 — U.S. Embassy, Singapore
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO — July 28, 1997 — Pentagon 5th Floor, E-Ring
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE — July 29, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Headquarters, Singapore
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR — July 29, 1997 — Cultural Center, Singapore
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE — July 29, 1997 — Satellite News Network, Atlanta
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX — July 29, 1997 — Pan Pacific Hotel, Singapore
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN — July 30, 1997 — Fort Canning Park, Singapore
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT — August 1, 1997 — Hong Kong Stock Exchange
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE — August 2, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Operations Center, Singapore
- CHAPTER NINETY — August 3, 1997 — Aboard the Japanese Destroyer Kirishima, South China Sea
- CHAPTER NINETY-ONE — August 3, 1997 — Chinese Naval HQ, Zhanjiang, China
- CHAPTER NINETY-TWO — August 3, 1997 — Malaysian Cultural Center, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
- CHAPTER NINETY-THREE — August 4, 1997 — U.S. Embassy, Singapore
- CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR — August 5, 1997 — SNN Bureau, Singapore
- CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE — August 6, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Operations Center, Singapore
- CHAPTER NINETY-SIX — August 7, 1997 — Special Research Facility near D.C.
- CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN — August 8, 1997 — Satellite News Network, Atlanta
- CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT — August 9, 1997 — Singapore Cruise Center
- CHAPTER NINETY-NINE — August 9, 1997 — Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force Headquarters, Tokyo
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED — August 9, 1997 — Chinese Naval Headquarters, Zhanjiang, China
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE — August 10, 1997 — White House Situation Room
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO — August 11, 1997 — SNN Bureau, Singapore
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE — August 12, 1997 — Special Research Facility near D.C.
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOUR — August 13, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Operations Center, Singapore
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE — August 14, 1997 — Fort Canning Park, Singapore
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX — August 14, 1997 — Satellite News Network, Atlanta
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVEN — August 14, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Operations Center, Singapore
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT — August 14, 1997 — Chinese Naval Headquarters, Zhanjiang, China
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE — August 15, 1997 — Special Research Facility, Virginia
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN — August 16, 1997 — Coastal Road, Sumatra, Indonesia
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN — August 16, 1997 — Special Research Facility, Virginia
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE — August 16, 1997 — Jungle Clearing, Sumatra, Indonesia
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN — August 16, 1997 — Special Research Facility, Virginia
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN — August 17, 1997 — Shangri La Hotel, Singapore
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN — August 17, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Operations Center, Singapore
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN — August 19, 1997 — The White House
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN — August 20, 1997 — Port of Singapore
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN — August 21, 1997 — COMLOGWESPAC Headquarters, Singapore
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN — August 23, 1997 — Changi Airport, Singapore
- Afterward
- PEOPLE OF NOTE
Begin Reading
CHAPTER ONE
January 23, 1991
Satellite News Network, Atlanta
“USE YOUR IMAGINATION,” the reporter concluded, pointing to the wreckage behind him. “The Iraqi people want you to see for yourself what it means when the world’s greatest military power targets infant nutrition.”
Ned Spinner grimaced, his fingers finding the worn edge of his desk, tapping an unconscious rhythm. He struggled with an urge to yank his senior correspondent out of Baghdad immediately. Peter, SNN’s man in Baghdad, waved at a billboard hastily painted in English. ’Baby Milk Factory, ’ it proclaimed. Another piece of truth, dead on arrival.
But that wasn’t how the game was played. Not anymore. Not with SNN running directly into the Pentagon’s situation room.
Spinner glanced at Millie O’Dair, perched on the edge of his office sofa. Balanced there, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on the screen. He had seen that focus before when she defended her senior thesis at Smith College. Her dissection of the media’s coverage of the Vietnam War had been ruthless and precise. Exactly the caliber of insight SNN demanded.
“Maybe he’s trying to tell us it’s propaganda,” she said. “That sign in English feels too deliberate.”
Spinner exhaled, shaking his head, recognizing the savvy he’d heard in her research defense. “Peter’s not that subtle. He’s selling their story because he wants to believe it.”
He stood and walked to the window, looking across Peachtree Street toward the Atlanta Underground. The city sprawled below, a circuit board of human connections, each light a potential source, each shadow a hidden truth.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” he muttered, noticing their reflections in the glass. “The Pentagon records every broadcast.” A dry chuckle escaped him. “Billions spent on surveillance, and they look to us for what’s happening.” He turned back to Millie. “That’s the best endorsement I could ask for.”
Millie’s expression flickered — clearly understanding. That was what made her valuable. It wasn’t that she listened; she connected the dots.
Spinner moved to sit across from her, studying the young journalist. Even in the conservative cut of her interview suit, she displayed the focus and intensity that reminded him of himself twenty years younger. Before he’d grown jaundiced with how fragile truth could be.
“Your thesis,” he said, choosing his words delicately. “The part where you argued the press shaped public opinion toward surrender in Vietnam. You never told me if you believed they were right to do it.”
She met his gaze steadily. “You never asked during the interview.” A pause. “Or is that what this is? The real interview? But my answer is, belief was never part of my thesis.”
Spinner allowed himself a small smile. Already proving her worth. “What do you think about Peter’s report?”
Millie didn’t hesitate. “He’s either a willing dupe or an unwitting one.” She shifted her weight slightly as if testing the edges of the conversation. “But that’s not the real question, is it? The real question is: when does perception become reality?”
Now, she was thinking the way he needed her to. “Go on.”
She held his gaze. “You’re in people’s homes now. Not only Americans — you said it yourself. You’re reaching places no other network can access. When Peter shows that milk factory, he’s not reporting — he’s creating a narrative that becomes everyone’s truth.”
Spinner sat back, nodding. This was why he’d chosen her personally, overriding his board’s preference for experienced candidates. Male ones.
She continued, “Someone decided to paint that sign in English. Someone wanted Western cameras to see it. So whose truth are we really showing?”
Through the window, the Atlanta skyline caught the last rays of sunset, towers of steel and glass burning gold. His information empire was built one broadcast at a time, one truth at a time.
“Are you familiar with T.S. Eliot?” he asked. “In ‘Little Gidding,’ he wrote about how we return to where we began and know the place for the first time?”
She tilted her head slightly. “Are you saying there’s no such thing as objective truth?”
“I’m saying truth is more complicated than what’s painted on a sign.” He stood again, restless about what he needed to explain. “When we enter someone’s home — whether it’s a living room in Des Moines or a command center in the Pentagon — we’re not delivering information. We’re shaping how they understand their world.”
“And who decides what shape that understanding takes?” Her voice was quiet but unflinching.
“That,” he said, “is the question I hoped you’d ask.” He faced her directly now. “You’ll be what we call a Remote. You’ll go where others can’t — or won’t. You’ll see things they don’t see. And you’ll have to decide, each time, how to shape what you find into reporting people can understand.”
“And if what I find doesn’t fit the shape people expect?”
“Then you’ll have to decide what matters — the shape or the truth.” He waited while she processed this, seeing the moment she understood what he was offering. Not a job but a responsibility.
“When do I start?”
“You already have,” Spinner said, sitting behind his desk. “I have a situation developing in Manila that needs covering.” He pulled a slim file from his drawer. “Unless you need time to consider — ”
“I’ve already resigned from the Tribune.” A slight smile played at the corner of her mouth. “The moment you called.”
He nodded, appreciating her instincts. “Philippine President Corazon Aquino wants the U.S. gone. Completely withdraw from the Philippines, sort of a reversal of MacArthur’s ’I shall return.’”
Millie suppressed a chuckle but teased, “Wasn’t that Arnold’s ’I’ll be back … ?’ Oops, sorry.” Millie winked at Spinner, “In my off hours, I’m pretty nerdy about sci-fi. At Smith, we’d stay up late, pretending to be Sarah Connor. Such a badass. But I understand. McArthur said that after he evacuated the U.S. forces in ’42, and as I remember, he kept his promise in ’44. So the U.S. has been in the Philippines for forty-seven years?”
With the slight diversion behind, Spinner got back on track. “The actual agreement we have expires this year, on September 16th. Aquino’s already said he probably won’t support the new Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation, and Security, so that will be it, the end. Subic Bay Naval Base and Clark Air Base will shutter, and the U.S. won’t have a foot in Southeast Asia for the first time, well, since the Vietnam War — but we don’t count that.”
“Is that the story?”
“No, the Manila story is a warm-up. Useful background. Your real focus will be Singapore and the Strait of Malacca. Know anything about the region?”
“Only what makes the financial pages. Singapore’s pushing to be the next Hong Kong. Malaysia is industrializing faster than anyone predicted. And Indonesia … ” She paused. “Well, that depends on which reports you believe.”
Spinner tapped the file. “The major players in Asia depend on those shipping lanes. Two-thirds of the world’s oil traffic. The bulk of Japan’s industrial supplies. One very narrow stretch of water.”
“And someone’s causing trouble?”
“Someone’s always causing trouble.” He stood and walked back to the window. The city lights below had fully taken over from the sunset now. “But lately, the trouble feels … coordinated. Connections that don’t make sense and shouldn’t exist.”
“And you want me to find why?”
“I want you to find the truth.” He turned to face her. “But remember what we discussed about truth and shapes. Some things are better left undefined. Some connections are better left … unconnected.”
O’Dair stood, smoothing her skirt unconsciously. “You’re looking for more than a reporter, are you?”
“I’m looking for a person who understands that each story has multiple truths.” He held her gaze. “The truth people need to hear, the truth they’re ready to hear, and the truth that needs to stay in the shadows.”
“And how can I tell which is which?”
“That’s why I chose you personally. Because you’ll figure it out.” He handed her the file. “Your ticket to Manila is already booked. Commercial flight, First Class. We take care of our people.”
She took the file but didn’t open it. “One last question.”
“One?”
“For now.” She gestured toward the television where Peter’s report had played. “What happens when your chosen one broadcasts the wrong truth?”
Spinner smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Peter will keep reporting from Baghdad until he learns his lesson. Or until he makes a mistake even I can’t fix.” He smoothed back his hair. “The truth isn’t kind, Ms. O’Dair. And neither is the outcome of mishandling it.”
“Peter isn’t really the lesson here,” she said quietly.
“No.” He moved back behind his desk, a subtle shift in posture marking the end of the interview. “He’s the example. The real lesson is that even the best reporters can convince themselves they see the whole picture when what they see is the outer edges of the frame.”
“And what happens when I think I see beyond the frame?”
“Then you’ll do what you’re trained to do. What your instincts tell you to do.” He reached for his desk phone, shifting to his next crisis. “Remember — the most important part of telling the truth is knowing when to stop telling it.”
O’Dair turned to leave, file tucked under her arm. At the door, she paused. “That quote from Eliot, about returning to where we began?”
“Yes?”
“He also wrote that April is the cruelest month.” She looked back at him. “About the false promise of spring bringing hope for renewal.”
Spinner’s hand froze over the phone. “Your flight leaves at seven,” he said finally. “Don’t miss it.”
After she left, Spinner lingered by the window, Atlanta’s lights blinking to life in the gathering dark. His fingers tapped against the desk — a habit he barely noticed anymore. The Pentagon was watching. America was watching. And somewhere, Peter was out there, convinced he had the complete picture. Spinner exhaled. No one ever did.
He tapped his Mont Blanc against the blotter, revisiting his earlier agitation during Peter’s report. He’d used that pen to sign SNN’s first international broadcasting contracts. Today, he used it to authorize O’Dair’s credentials. How often could the truth be drawn with simple strokes of ink?
CHAPTER TWO
March 8, 1991
Pentagon 4th Floor, C-Wing
THE MARINE GUARDS at the entrance stood rigid. Spinner steeled himself, aware of their silent scrutiny. Their holstered sidearms — Berettas, judging by their shape — hung at their sides, looking far from decorative.
He resisted a reflex to tug at his collar — he’d faced down network executives and advertising moguls before, but these men weren’t playing a game. They didn’t need words to remind him that he was an outsider here.
At the desk, an Air Force sergeant conferred in hushed tones with Spinner’s escort, glancing toward Spinner, then away. The murmuring was too faint to decipher, but the hesitation was evident. He wasn’t on the list. Wasn’t supposed to be here. Spinner clenched his jaw.
“Mr. Spinner, the Undersecretary is tied up,” the escort finally said, forcing an apologetic smile.
“Perhaps someone else could help you?” the sergeant added, reaching for Spinner’s driver’s license.
Spinner held back a sigh. He’d flown up from Atlanta at Paul Drury’s insistence, pushing back three board meetings and a satellite contract signing to be here. Yet they treated him worse than a lost tourist who’d wandered into a restricted area. He opened his mouth to object, but before he could, a sharp beep filled the air.
The vault door’s indicator light flashed from red to green, and with a low mechanical groan, the heavy steel swung outward.
“Ned! You made it!”
Paul Drury’s voice cut through the tense silence, too loud, too comfortable. Spinner barely had time to react before Drury clapped him on the shoulder — animated, assured, as if they were meeting for drinks instead of stepping into the Pentagon’s inner sanctum. Spinner forced a smile, but unease prickled at the back of his neck. Drury’s nonchalance wasn’t confidence. It was ownership.
“Come on in. Mr. White’s waiting. I’ve told him everything!”
The sergeant stiffened as Drury waved off his clipboard with an absent gesture. Without missing a beat, a blue VIP badge materialized in Drury’s hand, and voila, Spinner was through. The Marine guards didn’t even blink.
Inside, the air was different — cooler, sterile, thick with the scent of paper and polished metal. The heavy door groaned shut behind them, sealing off the outside world. The dull institutional green walls held no decoration, no grandeur.
“Ned, I’m so glad you came.” Drury was buoyant as he led Spinner through the hallway, past framed photographs of military hardware. Spinner scanned the photos — jets, submarines, things chosen not to impress but to deflect curiosity. The lack of names or plaques made that clear.
“When I told Tollie about your satellite network plans, he got excited. Really excited.”
Spinner glanced at him sideways. “About twenty-four-hour news?”
Drury’s smile didn’t waver, but inside knowledge flickered behind his eyes. “About possibilities.”
They stopped in front of an unmarked door. A simple plaque read: “Director.” Nothing else. A small panel with a row of black toggle switches jutted from the wall beside it. Drury clicked several in quick succession, his fingers moving with the kind of muscle memory that came from long repetition.
“How long can you stay?”
“Got the five-thirty back to Atlanta.”
Drury’s smile didn’t waver. “Oh no, that won’t do. Tollie will want you on the hill tomorrow. Closed-door meeting”
Spinner frowned. “Director of what?”
Drury shot him an amused look as the lock buzzed open. “The NSO, of course.”
Inside, Spinner stepped into a room that exuded power in the quietest way possible. Lamplight, not fluorescents. Dark furniture that suggested efficiency over expense. This wasn’t an ostentatious corporate boardroom. This was where decisions were made behind closed doors.
Tollin White rose from behind his desk, his folksy charm contrasting with the security surrounding him.
“My, my, my! So good to meet you at last!” White’s grip was warm, firm. Too warm. Too firm — short of reassuring. “You’ve come quite a way from raising cotton to owning Georgia’s biggest TV station. And now you’re looking to put it in space?”
Spinner’s stomach gave a familiar twist — the feeling of being the least informed person in a room. The room, the security, the VIP treatment — Spinner had assumed he was the one holding the cards. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Paul,” White gestured for him to sit. “Did you tell him?”
“No, sir. Your show entirely.”
White’s smile didn’t fade, but it changed, the warmth cooling a fraction. “Fine. Ned, we want to join forces with you.”
Spinner got it now. The Undersecretary of the Air Force wasn’t interested in a piece of a Georgia TV station. He was offering an opportunity that required vault doors and Marine guards. And the kind of conversations that never made it into the news.
…continued in the full book.